


Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not so much oblivious Tony as it is already taken Tony, Pining, Pining Steve, Younger Tony, blink and you'll miss it minor, but guess what, seriously this is an ensemble fic, so many characters - Freeform, so minor, so much pining, very minor Steve/Peggy, yeah this is that theater au that nobody asked for, you're gonna get it anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.





	1. Prologue

**A Most Rare Vision**

Written by Christine Everhart

Girls spin in gilded cages high above an enthralled audience. Shadows dance upon the water in a sunken stage. Acrobats leap from the stage to the front row of seats, all without touching the floor. 

From the moment he first stepped into the Broadway scene, famed director Phil Coulson has challenged the law of nature to spin the most incredible tales. This almost ordinary-looking man doesn't look like he could revolutionize the theatrical world but revolutionize it he has. 

"I wouldn't call it revolutionizing," Coulson protests when he glances at my notes. "More of a reimagining." Reimagining seems to be what Coulson does best as he finishes the fifth show in what he calls Shakespeare Reimagined. Critics are lauding his latest play, a production of Hamlet featuring nothing but dogs, inspired.

What's next for the director? Coulson grins that sly smile of his. "A Midsummer NIght's Dream," he says. "And if you think what I've been doing so far is revolutionary, wait until you see this."


	2. Act I Scene I

Stark was late.

Coulson wasn’t terribly surprised. He’d been warned over and over again that Tony Stark was more than a bit of a diva. Coulson had read over Stark’s list of requirements and they were exactly what he’d expected. A box of German chocolates at the first meeting with a new director and a single Hershey’s bar at each subsequent meeting. Ice water kept at a crisp 2°C. A private dressing room that always smelled of lavender and chamomile. It wasn’t the most outlandish set of requirements Coulson had ever had to meet but it certainly wasn’t great.

Maria’s notes on Stark had included to expect a late arrival. Stark didn’t believe in promptness. She’d also warned him off of hiring Stark, said that he was more trouble than he was worth, but Coulson believed in making judgments for himself. Well, he reflected wryly, she was right about this much at least. Stark was now fifteen minutes late. She might be right about the rest of it too.

Even as he mused, Stark slid into seat across from him. “Traffic was a bitch,” he said by way of explanation.

Coulson glanced out at the empty street- unusual for New York but he’d picked the restaurant for that reason- but didn’t refute the claim. He slid the box of German chocolates he’d ordered across the table to Stark.

“The chocolates you requested,” he said evenly.

Stark eyed them distastefully. “Yeah,” he said with a grimace. “I don’t like to be handed things. Wasn’t that in your file?”

Coulson sat back, slightly surprised. Not so much that Stark didn’t like to be handed things- he supposed an actor as famous as him had to be cautious- but more that Stark knew about the file. It wasn’t that uncommon for a director to keep files on the actors they wanted to hire but it wasn’t as though it was advertised.

“How did you know-?”

“That you had a file?” Stark asked. He waved a dismissive hand. “I know everything.”

Coulson hummed noncommittally and then turned to Stark’s bodyguard- Happy, the file had called him- and handed him the box. Happy didn’t bother opening it, just tucked it under one massive arm. Coulson frowned, that frown only growing when Stark handed his water glass to a passing waiter.

“Your Italian roast coffee,” Stark requested. “Might as well bring the pot.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Tony,” Stark interrupted. “Mr. Stark was Howard. Call me Tony.”

Again, Coulson was slightly surprised, this time at the vitriol in Stark’s- Tony’s-voice. It seemed that Tony didn’t hold much love for his famous father. Not that Coulson could really blame him. He’d met Howard Stark, famed producer, only once and that had been one time too many. Coulson refused now to go anywhere near the man. Still though, it was unprofessional to refer to the actor he’d just met by his first name, even if he would agree to think of him that way.

“Mr. Stark,” he began again. “Why ask for the water if you aren’t going to drink it?”

Tony shrugged too casually, seeming to not care that Coulson refused to call him by his first name. There was a calculating gleam in his eyes. “I’m going to put in a lot of work to make this vision of yours true. I want to know if you’ll meet me halfway.”

Coulson threw out everything Hill had ever said about Tony. This was no vapid diva, concerned more with his appearance than his performance. This was a shrewd businessman who knew exactly what he was worth and how to make sure he wasn’t taken advantage of.

The waiter arrived to take their orders. Coulson ordered the chicken Caesar salad. Tony attempted to order a cheeseburger but Happy stopped the waiter and ordered him a grilled chicken sandwich instead, saying that someone named Pepper (Stark’s closest friend? Coulson had heard rumors that Tony called Virginia Potts “Pepper”) would have his head if he kept letting Tony eat so unhealthily. Tony pouted for the briefest of moments but seemed to shake it off fairly easily, far more easily than Coulson would have thought from a renowned diva.

He gave the actor another quick onceover. Though still young, Tony exuded fashion in a way that few young actors did, the autumnal colors of his coat and hat- now handed to Happy- setting off his complexion nicely. But while the outfit was elegant, it wasn’t gaudy. The fabrics, though nice, were simple, nothing like what he would have thought from the Tony everyone knew. Coulson’s imagination sparked, draping Tony in those same colors but now in silks and with a hint of gold shimmering in the threads and that same mischievous look lurking in the corners of his eyes. Yes, he thought, Tony Stark was perfect for this role.

Tony shifted under his gaze. Coulson didn’t think it was nerves- all reports claimed that Tony was bordering on arrogantly self-confident- but he didn’t know what else it could be.

Leering, Tony said, “I think that kind of look should be reserved for the bedroom, don’t you?”

Coulson recognized the tease for what it was though and he merely smiled. “I have a role for you, Mr. Stark,” he said. “I think you’ll like it.”

“I only take interesting roles,” Tony challenged. “I’ve heard what you’re working on. _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. What’s so interesting about that?”

Coulson smiled again, self-assured in his own abilities. “Oh I think you’ll find it pretty interesting.”

Tony scoffed. “Doubtful. I know your work, Coulson. Been watching you since you came on the scene. Your costumes? Jaw-dropping. The sets? Amazing. The stunts? Terrifyingly realistic. But the characters? Mediocre. The acting is superb but you don’t add anything new to them. They’re repeats of what came before.” Coulson opened his mouth to protest, stung by Tony’s cruel comments. Tony stood however, buttoning his coat. “Thanks for the meeting. Lunch is on me.”

Happy threw a few bills down on the table and the two turned to go. Coulson waited until they were almost to the door before calling after him, “Why did Oberon change his mind?”

Tony stopped, turning slightly. “Sorry?”

Coulson spread his hands. “You heard me,” he said mildly. “Why did Oberon change his mind? He had what he wanted but he’d said some cruel things about his queen, mocked her so, you’d think he would never lift the spell. But he changed his mind. Why?”

“Fairies are capricious,” Tony said, though he sounded far more uncertain than he had previously. “Fickle.”

“Perhaps,” Coulson allowed. “But I don’t think so. Not Shakespeare’s fairies. There are a few- very few- instances of a fairy acting fickle in this play and only one is Oberon. So why change his mind?”

Tony walked back to the table, sitting down again. “You tell me,” he said.

“Don’t you know everything?” Coulson remarked, irrationally wanting revenge for Tony’s comments of a minute before. “Puzzle it through.”

Tony was silent for a long moment, during which time their food arrived. His mouth twisted at the sight of the vegetables on his plate but he didn’t complain. Finally, he said quietly, “Maybe he didn’t change his mind.”

He glanced up at Coulson quickly as though checking to see if he was on the right track. Coulson nodded encouragingly. “Maybe,” he continued slowly, as though thinking his theory through, “his mind was changed for him.”

“How?” Coulson asked sharply, inwardly delighted that Tony was grasping this so quickly.

“The flower. The one used on Demetrius and Lysander.”

“Who would have done that?”

Tony’s nose twitched. He reached into his coat and pulled out a slim book. A copy of the play, Coulson noted approvingly. Tony leafed through it and Coulson could see annotations on quite a few of the pages. Proof, he thought, that Tony had been taking this offer more seriously than he’d seemed.

“Puck’s the only one who would have the ability to,” Tony mused.

“Why would Puck do that?” Coulson prompted.

“For fun?” Tony guessed. “He is a trickster.”

“A prank on his king?” Coulson asked. “Why? Everything he’s done up to this point has been in the name of his king, for his king. Why would he play such a trick _on_ his king?”

“If not for fun,” Tony said, “then why?” His brow wrinkled confusedly and Coulson decided to take pity on him.

“I think that, if Puck is the one who causes Oberon to fall back in love with Titania, then it’s because he knows that the fairy king must love the fairy queen.”

“Is Oberon not in love with Titania?”

“Maybe not. Maybe he fell in love with someone else. Maybe he acted on those feelings.”

Coulson fell silent, silently willing Tony to understand. He was rewarded when clarity shone in Tony’s eyes a moment later.

“Puck,” Tony stated. “You think he fell in love with Puck.” He looked at Coulson with new appreciation. “That’s brilliant. I’d call you a genius but I’m here.”

Coulson smiled a bit at the casual arrogance Tony wore like a jacket. Instead of rising to Tony’s bait, he said, “I want to offer you the role of Puck.”

Tony looked taken aback. “Really?” he asked. “Puck? Not Lysander or Bottom? You know those are the roles I’m usually cast in.”

“Not Lysander or Bottom. Puck.”

Tony studied him for a long minute, eyes narrowed. Coulson wondered what he was thinking under those dark curls. Then, abruptly, Tony asked, “Who will you go to if I refuse?”

Coulson knew that this was not usually done but he had never once seen anyone else as his Robin Goodfellow. Honestly, he admitted, “No one.”

“You never considered another actor?”

Coulson shrugged. “Didn’t see the point.”

“That sure I’d say yes?”

He met Tony’s gaze evenly. “Are you?” he asked.

Tony studied him a moment longer and then flashed him a brilliant smile. “Yes.” He stood once more, motioning for Happy to hand him his hat. “On one condition, Coulson. I want to be at the auditions for Oberon. I want to approve your choice.”

Coulson stood as well and nodded. “I expected nothing less.”

“And one last thing,” Tony said, holding out a hand to stop him though it hovered just above his arm. “Really. Call me Tony.”

Coulson smiled blandly. “Of course, Mr. Stark.”


	3. Act I Scene II

Steve woke to the sound of his phone ringing. This in itself was not unusual. Steve was in high demand as a multi-Academy Award winner and he often awoke to a ringing phone, usually some fresh-faced director sure that Steve’s name would catapult them into stardom themselves.

What was unusual was that his phone quit ringing as he was wiping the sleep from his eyes and then immediately started up again. He sighed. It was probably Phillips with another period role for him.

Steve hadn’t meant to end up as typecasted- few actors did- but sometime after his second Oscar for his portrayal of some military hero, people had become convinced that those were the only roles he was capable of playing. Now, after last year when he’d won yet another award for playing a young heroic captain in a World War II drama, period pieces were the only films Phillips offered him.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t like the period pieces. They could be a lot of fun. It was more that he was only twenty-seven years old. It was ridiculous that he could only manage to get one type of role. Surely, there was more out there than stuffy war dramas.

The phone quit ringing just as he picked it up. Steve had just enough time to see that he’d missed six calls from Phillips before the seventh came through. Steve groaned and pressed the answer button.

“What are you doing with your ass still in bed, Rogers?” Phillips growled. Phillips was a retired Army colonel, now turned agent to the stars for reasons unknown (though Steve suspected they had something to do with Phillips’ deceased daughter, an actress who’d died of a drug overdose).

“Good morning to you too, Colonel,” Steve sighed.

“Your plane leaves in an hour and you’re still in bed,” Phillips said, biting the words out.

Steve sat up, confused. “My plane?”

“Yes, Rogers. Your plane. You’ve got an audition in New York tomorrow.”

“New York?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say or are you going to get your ass moving?” Phillips barked the last word out and Steve was startled into gear. He put the phone on speaker, tossing it onto the bed as he dressed.

“Why do I have an audition in New York?” he asked, grabbing his brown leather jacket from the closet. It had been his grandfather’s and Steve loved the ratty old thing. His publicist despaired of it every time he saw the jacket, complaining loudly about how there were other, more fashionable, coats Steve could (should) be wearing. But Steve refused to let it go for anything and now he wore it specifically because it irritated his publicist.

“Weren’t you complaining just last week that you wanted to act on Broadway and do ‘something more with your life?’” Phillips demanded. Steve could hear the air quotes he’d thrown around those last few words. He did indeed vaguely recall saying something like that. But, in his defense, he’d been fairly drunk and certain that Phillips wouldn’t take him seriously. He made a noncommittal noise but Phillips seemed to take it as assent and continued, “If you’re going to throw your career away and prance about on some stage, then I’ll be damned if you’ll do it for anyone worse than Phil Coulson.”

Steve paused in the middle of brushing his teeth. “Coulson’s casting?” he asked cautiously.

Phillips snorted. “Yeah. One of those Shakespeare Reimagined plays.”

Steve grinned. He’d been to see all of Coulson’s Shakespeare Reimagined plays, from _Hamlet_ with dogs to _The Tempest_ in a sunken, water-filled stage. He really enjoyed seeing how Coulson would subvert society’s views on William Shakespeare. The chance to act in one of them was a private dream of his.

“Which play?” he asked.

There was a soft rustling as though Phillips was checking his notes. “ _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ ,” he said finally. “I’ve got you auditioning for Demetrius.”

Steve nodded absently. He only vaguely remembered reading the play for literature class in middle school. He’d have to pick up a copy at the airport to read on the flight.

“Demetrius,” he murmured. “That’s one of the-”

“Lovers, yes. Barnes and Wilson are auditioning with you,” Phillips continued. Steve’s grin grew broader. He’d have both of his closest friends with him.

“Steve, listen,” Phillips said. Steve froze, locking his front door. It was rare, very rarer, for Phillips to call him by his first name. “There are rumors that Coulson’s got Tony Stark attached to this project.”

Frowning, Steve tried to remember where he’d heard the name. Stark certainly wasn’t a film actor. “And Stark is…?”

“Broadway royalty,” Phillips answered. “His father, Howard, is a producer; his mother, Maria, one of Broadway’s greatest actresses. Incredibly versatile. Think Maria from _West Side Story_ , Éponine in _Les Miserables_ , even Christine from _Phantom of the Opera_. And let’s be real, those are not similar roles. But she’s done them and she’s damn good at it.”

“And you’re warning me about Stark because why?”

“Because Tony Stark is good. The problem is, he knows it. Thinks of himself as a pretty, pretty princess. Just about everyone who’s worked with Stark calls him a diva.”

Steve snorted, thinking it funny hearing the word in Phillips’ no-nonsense voice. “You know, there are some people who’d call me the same.” Steve supposed it was true, if one considered anyone who demanded perfection a diva.

Phillips sighed. “Rogers, there are very few people who have anything nice to say about Stark. He’ll make a production excellent and he’ll make everyone’s lives miserable in the process.”

“Thanks for telling me, Colonel. But I think I can make my own judgments for myself. Tony Stark can’t possibly be that bad.”


	4. Act I Scene III

Steve took another quick glance over his monologue. Coulson’s instructions had mentioned preparing two monologues- one Shakespearean and one not- as opposed to the usual one. Already, this audition was shaping up to be unlike one he’d ever been to before. For one thing, Coulson was known for personally vetting everyone who wanted to audition before they could even step foot in the door, cutting down the number of people auditioning from somewhere in the thousands to a few hundred. For another, Coulson apparently didn’t believe in individual auditions. Everyone was crammed into the auditorium together, separated by the role they were auditioning for with flags denoting each section. Back when Steve still had to audition (sometime after his first Academy Award, the auditions had stopped, giving way to directors treating him to lunch instead), everyone had sat together outside but the auditions themselves had been private, not like this where everyone would be able to see everyone else’s tryouts.

And then there were the two monologues.

Steve was pretty sure he knew what that was about. He’d seen plenty of performances of _Hamlet_ or _The Tempest_ or _Romeo and Juliet_ , perfectly grammatically correct performances with the right pentameter and everything but lacking the heart of the show. Shakespeare wasn’t easy to perform and if someone couldn’t even act out something non-Elizabethan then how could they be expected to perform the Bard? Still, it was a little strange.

He had done as asked, prepared one speech from _Henry V_ and one from _Rent_. He felt pretty confident about his ability to recite both; he just wasn’t sure about his ability in relation to the other actors. There were quite a few auditioning for Demetrius, including a veteran actor Steve had last seen as Coulson’s Othello, James Rhodes. Steve thought Rhodes might be too old for the role of Demetrius- the man was nearly thirty- but such experience was formidable.

A hush fell over the assemblage. Steve turned in his seat to see Phil Coulson himself walking down the center aisle. Beside him walked Nick Fury, the producer for all of Coulson’s shows. Behind the pair was a younger couple, perhaps college age, both heavily laden down with binders and folders. Probably Coulson’s assistants.

Steve dismissed them to focus back on Coulson. He’d seen the director before at past shows but that had been from a distance. This close, he could note the expensive cut of Coulson’s suit, the uneven fringe of hair across his forehead, and the bright, intelligent eyes.

Coulson caught sight of James Rhodes, sitting near Steve and gave him a sharp nod.

“Coulson,” Rhodes said politely.

“James,” Coulson returned.

The male assistant scowled and then called, “How come you’ll call Rhodey by his first name but not me?”

“Because, Mr. Stark, your pain amuses me,” Coulson said evenly.

Stark threw his head back and laughed. For the first time, Steve turned his attention to him because, clearly, he was no assistant for all that he was carrying a stack of folders half as tall as he was and-

 _Oh_.

No one had told him Tony Stark was beautiful. That wasn’t an adjective Steve often used in relation to men but it was the only word he could possibly use to describe him. From his casual elegance to his flawless complexion to his fluffy hair to his big brown eyes, Stark was perfection incarnate. Then the small group passed Steve’s row and he got a look at Stark’s back and, good lord, that ass. It was perfectly outlined by the tight grey suit pants he wore and all Steve could think was that it would fit perfectly in his hands.

Damn but he wanted Tony Stark.

Mentally, he groaned. Steve had known since he was thirteen that he was equally attracted to both men and women when he had kissed Bucky on his birthday. It was supposed to have been a joke but Steve had learned that he was bisexual. Bucky had learned he was (tragically in Steve’s opinion) straight.

It had been ten years since then and he was still just as bi though he tended to date women these days. It was hard for a man in an open relationship with another man to get roles in military dramas. Steve doubted that he had ever had such a visceral reaction to a man.

And it was such a bad idea.

Steve didn’t believe in dating one’s coworker and if he was very, very lucky that’s exactly what Stark would be. Breakups could be messy- or, at least, his were. He didn’t want to take the chance of ruining the play by dating Stark.

Coulson was speaking again, still to Stark, as he ushered Fury and his assistant into the empty row near the front. “I assume you already know Puck’s merry wanderer monologue.” From his seat, Steve could just barely see the sarcastically raised eyebrow Stark gave him in response. Coulson smiled blandly. “Go,” he said, jerking his head at the stage.

Stark nodded, beginning to back away slowly. He spun on his heel and, as he did, Steve saw Stark melt away into Puck. A mischievous light gleamed in his eyes. That lovely eyebrow stayed arched. But most intriguing was his walk. Steve couldn’t have said what it was but it no longer appeared- well, human. It wasn’t Tony Stark stalking towards the stage but the fairy Puck. It was Puck who suddenly broke into a run, full on sprinting towards the stage. It was Puck who swiped one of the flagpoles, planted it firmly on the ground, and vaulted over the orchestra pit, tucking himself neatly into a roll as he hit the stage and coming up on his feet.

Steve adjusted his jacket over his lap.

“Thou speak’st aright,” Puck said slyly, talking to the back of the stage. Then he turned his head to the side, peeking at the enraptured audience. “I am that merry wanderer of the night.” It was supposed to be a concession, bowing to the other fairy’s rightness, but it sounded mocking like he couldn’t believe it had taken them so long. He turned fully and swept himself into a curtsy.

“I jest to Oberon,” here a nod to the actors auditioning for Oberon, “and make him smile, when I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, neighing in likeness of a filly foal.” He whinnied, a near-perfect likeness of a horse. His eyes lit upon a man in the audience drinking from a water bottle and a smirk spread across his face. He slunk across the stage and down the side steps, murmuring as he went, “And sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, in very likeness of a roasted crab, and when she drinks, against her lips I bob and on her withered dewlap pour the ale.” Abruptly, he reached out and tipped the bottle over, spilling it all down the man’s front. The man’s eyes flashed but Puck danced backwards, wagging his finger.

His gaze roved over the audience, alighting for the briefest second on Steve. They started to move on and then jerked back. Puck’s lips parted slightly followed by one side curling up. Steve held his breath as Puck prowled towards him and then he was sliding into his lap, straddling him. Steve clenched his hands at his side, willing them not to rise to Puck’s waist.

“The wisest aunt,” Puck purred, gently stroking his face and leaning closer, “telling the saddest tale, sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; then slip I from her bum, down topples she, and “tailor” cries, and falls into a cough; and then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh; and waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear a merrier hour was never wasted there.”

Their faces were mere inches apart but the smile suddenly slid from Puck’s face. He pushed Steve back, leaping from his lap, accidentally (or perhaps not so accidentally? It seemed like a Puckish thing to do) kneeing his groin. Steve yelped but Puck didn’t seem to notice.

Instead he said, “But, room, fairy! Here comes Oberon.”

In the next instant, Puck was gone and Stark stood there once more. “Sorry,” he whispered, glancing down at where Steve was clutching himself.

“It’s fine,” Steve tried to reassure him but he thought it didn’t quite work when Stark winced. It _was_ more of a wheeze.

Coulson was standing again and Stark slipped away to take his seat. “That, ladies and gentlemen,” Coulson said as he took the stage, “is exactly what I want to see in a Shakespearean performance. If you’re going to stand there and recite verse at me, then I might as well just hire a bunch of middle schoolers.”

“Or you could hire Hammer,” Stark called. There were quite a few laughs from the others, mostly the experienced actors. The man Stark had poured water on scowled and started to rise.

Before he could, Coulson yelled, “Settle down.” Steve was interested to note though that he was hiding a smile. “Mr. Stark,” he started to warn and Stark held up his hands.

“Got it,” he said cheerfully. “I will not make anymore rude comments about Hammer’s abilities, however true they may be.”

There were more titters. Coulson, however, moved on. “Point being, if you’re going to give me these lines in verse then you might as well walk out now.” He paused to let the few people stand and leave. “As for the rest of you, auditions begin now. You’ll be asked to come up here and perform your two monologues. Start with the non-Shakespearean one. You can leave once you’re done or you can stay to the end. I’ll post the callback list to the stage door tomorrow morning and callbacks will be the day after. If I ask you to return, have a speech by your character prepared. Now, I believe Nick has some words he’d like to say.”

Fury stood, choosing not to come up to the stage. He glared at the assembled performers. Steve realized that one of his eyes was filmed over. Apparently, he was blind in one eye.

“Listen up,” he said, not bothering to speak up as everyone was listening intently. “I’m paying a lotta money to put this show on so you better be prepared to put all your effort into this. If you don’t think you can do that, if you don’t think you can put all your time into this play, then get out of this theater ‘cause I don’t even want to see you audition.”

Someone laughed, maybe thinking he was joking. But Fury whirled around, glaring ferociously. “Did you think I was joking?” he growled. “Get out.” The actress in question slowly stood and Steve could see that she was wondering if he was actually serious. Fury just said, “I’m not kidding here. Leave.” The girl scurried away, trying to stifle a sob. A long silence dwelled after her exit and then another few people stood and left.

Fury turned back to Coulson, evidently satisfied. “I leave this in your capable hands, Phil. Impress me.” He stepped neatly over Stark’s outstretched legs and left.

Coulson nodded briskly and stepped back to his seat. “Auditions begin now. Let’s start with Philostrate, shall we?”

Each individual audition was over within seconds. The actors wouldn’t get through more than two or three lines of their monologues before Coulson would call for them to move on to their next speech. They’d get through the first few lines of that one and then Coulson would ask them to stop and get down from the stage. There were a few actors that Coulson would allow to get through five or six lines but there were just as many that he asked to leave immediately following their first monologue.

Steve tried hard to pay attention to the auditioning performers but his attention kept drifting over to focus on Tony Stark. He wasn’t sure what was so magnetic about the younger actor but he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes from him. Stark was certainly paying more attention to the performers than he was, scribbling as many notes as Coulson did about each performance. Occasionally, Stark would lean over and whisper in Coulson’s ear. Each time, Coulson absently nodded and made an additional note on his paper. These corresponded with the actors Coulson cut off early or let linger.

They got through the auditions for entire court and the mechanicals before taking a thirty-minute break for lunch. Steve was supposed to meet up with Sam and Bucky for during the break but Stark stepped in front of him before he could leave.

“Hi,” Stark said quietly.

Ahead of him, he saw Bucky and Sam pause at the auditorium door. Steve waved at them to go on without him. Then he looked down at Stark, realizing that the man was tiny. He’d fit perfectly tucked up against him- or under him.

“Don’t go there, Steve,” he muttered to himself. Stark frowned at him. Steve shook his head slightly and said warmly, “Hi. Steve Rogers. Call me Steve.”

“Tony Stark. Call me Tony,” Tony returned. “Wanted to apologize again for, you know.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Steve said. “No permanent damage.”

Tony grinned, looking away briefly. “Any temporary?”

Steve laughed. “None at all. You’ll have to work harder to get me to sing soprano.”

Tony honest-to-god giggled. Steve ducked his head, hiding both his blush and his pleasure at making Tony laugh like that. When he looked back up, he found Tony studying him curiously.

“So you’re auditioning for Demetrius?” Tony asked. There was an intense note to his voice, like it really mattered to him what Steve’s answer was.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It was my agent’s recommendation.”

Tony looked slightly disappointed. “That’s a shame,” he murmured.

Steve had no idea why that was a shame but he shrugged. Tony started to walk away but Steve had one more question for him. “Why did you- you know?” he asked, a little unwilling to actually say that Tony had sat on his lap.

Tony glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe because Puck is a versatile character and I wanted to show as many facets of his character as I could,” he said easily. Then he flashed Steve a devilish grin. “Or maybe I just wanted to sit in your lap.” Before Steve could think of an answer, he sashayed out of the theater.

Steve sighed as he watched those pretty hips move. “Don’t bother,” someone said next to him. He jumped before turning to see Rhodes.

Rhodes smiled ruefully. “Tony flirts with everyone. Easy as breathing to him, rarely even realizes he’s doing it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It could,” Steve said hopefully. If Rhodes could see, plain as day, that he was interested then he saw no reason to hide it.

“It doesn’t,” Rhodes said, though not unkindly. “See, Tony doesn’t date multiple people at the same time.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He knew it was irrational to be disappointed, he’d only known Tony for a few minutes, but he was anyway. “You?”

Rhodes snorted. “God, no. Tony’s like a brother to me. No, he started going out with this guy a few weeks ago.” He patted Steve’s shoulder, seeming to recognize his disappointment. “Don’t take it personally. Happens to just about everyone.”

He left, leaving Steve there a little dumbfounded. What did he mean, it happened to everyone? Simply that Tony flirted with everyone? Or that everyone had a crush on him? He groaned, wondering if he’d done the wrong thing when he’d left California. He sighed again and walked out to join Bucky and Sam.

Neither of them asked him what that whole thing had been about though Steve was sure that they wanted to. Those two were the nosiest busybodies he’d ever known. He figured they were probably just waiting until that night when they had a little more time and privacy. Steve didn’t mind though, occupied as his thoughts were with Tony.

Lunch was over far sooner than he would have liked and, almost before he knew it, they were heading back to the theater. Having finished the auditions for the court and the mechanicals before lunch, Sam left them at the entrance, letting them know that he’d meet them that evening for dinner. He was only auditioning for a small role and, as a newer actor, didn’t know yet that he should probably stay for all the auditions. Steve was all for letting him know that it was wise to stay, to learn more about the actors he might be working with, but Bucky shook his head.

“Let him make his own mistakes,” he muttered. “He wouldn’t listen anyway.” Steve glanced sidelong at him, thinking that Bucky and Sam’s rivalry was famous. Bucky only grinned. “You wouldn’t have listened either at his age.”

“He’s only a few years younger than us,” Steve told him but he conceded the point and followed Bucky inside.

The auditorium was noticeably emptier. Clearly, only a few people had thought it important to stay. It didn’t seem to bother Coulson thought and he picked up the tryouts with the auditions for the lovers, starting with Helena. Steve watched intently as the girls, one of who might be his lover in the play, each came up to read through their monologues. Now, Coulson allowed them to speak a little longer, tending more to cut them off after the five-line mark. Contrary to the morning, Tony no longer paid as much attention though he still made a few notes. From Helena, they moved on to Lysander and then Hermia and, finally, Demetrius.

Steve really paid attention to these performers, knowing that they would be his competitors. He thought that a few were very good, certainly worrisome. On the other hand, there were also many who didn’t look or sound good at all. He almost wondered how they’d been let in through the door. As he’d done with everyone else, Coulson let a few linger and cut off even more before they could really get going, but mostly he let run their natural course.

Then it was Steve’s turn.

He stood, fixed his jacket, and walked to the stage. “Good afternoon,” he began, same as everyone else. “My name is Steve Rogers. I’ll be auditioning for the role of Demetrius.”

Coulson waved a hand for him to begin but Steve had gotten no more than a few sentences into his first monologue before he said, “Thank you. Can I hear your next one?”

Relieved that he’d made it past the first speech, he grinned and nodded. He launched into the “once more unto the breach” monologue and what was surprising was this- both Coulson and Tony sat up and leaned forward, nearly as one. Steve knew that he was good at motivational speeches (it was what made him so good as a period actor) but this was an unprecedented level of interest from the director and actor. He reached the five-line mark, then the ten, then he lost count as they let him keep speaking. He nearly forgot the lines, so shocked was he. But he recovered and kept going until he had cried the last lines.

There was a moment of silence as Steve finished. Neither Coulson nor Tony seemed to have realized he was done speaking. Suddenly, Tony shook himself and leaned over to Coulson to whisper something to him.

Coulson nodded dazedly. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers,” he said eventually. “You may be seated.”

Steve walked back to his seat in a slight haze, barely noticing the resentful glares he received from the other actors. He had no clue what had caught Coulson’s interest but it was either very good or very bad. He hoped it was very good.

Caught up in his thoughts, he barely noticed the other auditions. He did catch the unusual interest Tony displayed in the auditions for Oberon. Even that, however, only vaguely registered with him.

By the end of the day, his thoughts were spinning and he almost missed Coulson asking him to stay when he dismissed everyone else. He remained seated as people shuffled out around him. Bucky patted his shoulder gently. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he promised.

When everyone was gone, Coulson called, “Mr. Rogers, come here please.” Steve made his way across the empty theater to stand in front of him. Coulson studied him for a long moment. Steve straightened up under such scrutiny.

After a minute, he nodded as though satisfied by what he’d seen and dropped his gaze to the papers in front of him. Steve was startled to realize that it was his headshot and resume, covered in scribbled notes. “Demetrius,” Coulson began, “is a lover. But you picked a monologue from _Henry V_. It’s an unusual choice. Why’d you do it?”

Steve shuffled his feet. “Demetrius has the approval of Egeus. I thought maybe it was because he was a military man.”

Coulson made a noncommittal noise. “Can you give me a lover’s speech?” he asked.

Steve thought about that for a second. He was fairly unfamiliar with Shakespeare who didn’t really translate well to Hollywood but he’d pored over his copy of the play on the plane yesterday. By now, he knew it pretty well.

“Welcome, good Robin,” he began, hesitantly at first and then warming up to his speech. “See’st thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity-”

“That’s enough,” Coulson interrupted. “Oberon’s speech? You think that’s the speech of a lover?”

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that Steve didn’t think he liked. He nodded, now unsure of himself. “Why else would he lift the spell?”

Coulson tilted his head back appraisingly. “Stark,” he said, raising his voice. “You may be right.”

Steve jerked his head around to see Tony, leaning against the doorway. He hadn’t thought there was anyone still in the auditorium. Tony smirked, saying dryly, “Imagine that. Did you tell him yet?”

Coulson shook his head. “Getting there.” He turned back to Steve. “Mr. Rogers, I like your work a lot. I think you do a good job on just about everything you do. But I’m not sure about your interpretation of Demetrius. I think you’d do a good performance of him.” He paused and then said, “I’m looking for a great one.”

Steve, sensing that his opportunity to act in one of Coulson’s plays was slipping through his fingers, hurried to say, “I can do a different interpretation.”

Coulson only held up his hand to stop him from continuing. “Stark back there though wants you in this show. So I’ll let you bring in this other interpretation of Demetrius for the callbacks- if you’ll bring in a monologue for Oberon as well.”

Too grateful for the second chance to really consider the offer, Steve said immediately, “I’ll do it.”

“Then I look forward to seeing you in two days. Have a nice evening.”

Steve hurried away before Coulson had a chance to change his mind. As he left, he looked for Tony to thank him but the man was nowhere to be seen.


	5. Act I Scene IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't much like this chapter and will probably go back to edit it later but here, have it now.

Bucky waited until they were almost back to the hotel before pulling Steve into a side-alley off the main road. “Are you gonna rob me?” Steve joked but Bucky just gave him a sharp glare.

“What happened today?” Bucky asked.

Steve widened his eyes innocently. “What do you mean? Nothing happened.”

Bucky growled. “Don’t bullshit me, Stevie. Stark wants to talk to you in private at lunch and then Coulson does the same thing after auditions. You may be distracted by Stark’s pretty ass but I’m not. I can see something’s going on and I want to know what.”

Sighing, Steve stepped back and said truthfully, “Tony just wanted to apologize for his performance and Coulson just wanted to talk about my interpretation of Demetrius.”

He hoped that Bucky would accept the oversimplified explanation. No such luck though. Bucky raised an eyebrow. “’Just?’” he repeated. “Did you forget I’ve known you since we were in diapers? There’s no just about any of this. What really happened?”

“Tony really did want to apologize for sitting on me. We flirted a bit and he asked me who I was auditioning for. Thought it was a shame that I was trying for Demetrius.”

“You flirted with him? And he flirted back?” Surprisingly, Bucky sounded annoyed by that fact.

“Well I don’t know what else to call it.”

“Jesus, Steve!” Bucky groaned. “You know the man’s got a reputation a mile long, right?”

“Yes,” Steve said, drawing out the word. He thought he could see where this was going.

“And you thought you’d get messed up in something like that?”

Yep, exactly where he’d thought it was going.

“Look, I know he’s got a reputation- though I can’t imagine why. He seemed sweet when I talked to him.”

“You can’t make a judgment call on five minutes,” Bucky said flatly. He leaned against a wall of the alley, Steve mirroring the movement opposite him.

“Why not?” Steve challenged. He crossed his arms huffily. “Isn’t that what an audition is, a five-minute judgment call?”

Bucky snorted softly. “It’s not the same thing and you know it. I’ve been talking to the other actors auditioning and they all say the same thing: Tony Stark is bad news, everyone knows it.”

“Is he now?” Steve demanded. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so defensive over Tony but he was. He suspected that it had something to do with the fact that the entire world seemed to be against him. He’d always liked the little guys, the ones no one wanted to root for. “You know why Coulson wanted to see me? To tell me that he didn’t think my interpretation of Demetrius was going to work for his play. I thought he was going to tell me not to bother coming back in two days but turns out Tony told him to give me another shot ‘cause he thinks I’d be perfect for Oberon.”

To his surprise though, Bucky didn’t seem impressed by this. His jaw dropped and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Tell me you aren’t this naïve. Please- just don’t be this stupid.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky pleaded. “You’ve gotta see it. Stark flirts with you-”

“Doesn’t matter if he flirted with me or not,” Steve grumbled. “He’s seeing someone.”

Bucky threw up his hands in exasperation. “That just makes it even worse! He flirts with you, doesn’t like that you’re auditioning for Demetrius, and then Coulson just _magically_ decides that you’re not right for that role,” he stated, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “But oh! Stark thinks you’re great so he’ll let you try again if you’ll audition for what Stark wants you to do. And you don’t think that’s suspicious at all?”

Put like that, it did seem a little off. Steve opened his mouth but Bucky kept talking. “I mean, really, Stevie? We all saw your performance. Coulson didn’t cut you off at all, not like the rest of us. He was practically salivating at the thought of having you in his show. But then he says he doesn’t think you’re a good fit? Please.”

The worst thing was, Steve could see exactly what Bucky was saying. Tony had very neatly manipulated him into the role he wanted Steve in.

“But why?” he said quietly, dejected now that he had realized what was going on.

Bucky cast a pitying look at him. “Steve, you know that I have no feelings for you whatsoever but you are a gorgeous specimen of a man. Is it so hard to think that he just wanted you as eye candy?”

Yeah, Steve could see that but who would ever want do something like that? Who would nearly get a great actor fired just so they could move them into a different part? And it galled because Steve knew he was a great actor and he knew that he had impressed Coulson so why had Coulson swayed so easily? But more than that-

“He seemed so genuine,” he murmured.

Bucky smiled sympathetically. “He’s one of the best actors on Broadway right now. Of course he did.”

They kept walking, Steve’s mind now whirling with thoughts of the day. He could see now where Stark had acted so sweet- to keep Steve from suspecting him. The flirting must have been because he really was the playboy that everyone claimed him to be. Rhodes surprised him though because Rhodes definitely seemed to be a genuinely decent person by all accounts. But he supposed that Stark could have fooled him too. After all, hadn’t Rhodes also warned him about Stark’s flirting? He kept going over everything that had happened, seeing motive now where he’d missed it before. It was certain- Stark had very neatly maneuvered him into the position he wanted him in.

That burned. Steve didn’t think he was as naïve as Bucky always claimed him to be but he certainly was rather trusting. To have that trust be taken advantage of so quickly was hurtful.

Well, one thing was for sure. He wasn’t going to let Stark ever do that again.


	6. Act I Scene V

Steve spent all of three hours doing a bit of research on Tony Stark before coming to the conclusion that Bucky was right. Stark was all of twenty-two years old but he’d ruled the partying scene since he was sixteen, drinking wildly until the small hours of the morning nearly every night and bringing home a different person just as often. He was in the tabloids every other week for some new exploit, an impressive feat for a stage actor who’d never once appeared in a film. He’d gained a reputation for being a difficult and demanding actor, insisting on the most outrageous list of demands in return for his appearance in a show. The more Steve read, the more disgusted with Stark he became and the more Steve was disappointed for not having done the research when Phillips told him to.

This was certainly not a man who had Steve’s best interests at heart and more than likely was only interested in himself.

Armed with his new knowledge, he walked into the callbacks two days after his first audition ready to face Tony Stark with all the disdain his antics deserved. Stark was already in the auditorium when he arrived with Bucky and Sam, both of whom had also been on the list of callbacks.

Stark glanced up from his conversation with Rhodes and a pretty red-haired woman as soon as Steve entered. He cast a hopeful smile and a little wave at Steve. Steve gave him his coldest glare and turned away, pretending not to notice the confused hurt expression that appeared on Stark’s face.

A moment later, Stark excused himself from his conversation and jogged over to Steve. “Steve,” Stark said, sounding hopeful again. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Steve said, maintaining the cold expression. “Should I sit with the Demetrius actors or the Oberon actors?”

Stark looked a little lost and he flitted his eyes over to Bucky and Sam as though they would tell him why Steve was upset. The two just offered glares of their own. Steve had told them everything he’d found on Stark and they all agreed that it was best Steve stay away from him.

“I-” Stark said, faltering. “You should- sit where you want. Why would I care where you sit?”

Steve huffed. Of course the outcome of these auditions wouldn’t matter to Stark. “Since you want me in the Oberon role so bad.”

He left Stark standing there to puzzle out his words and resolutely sat in the Demetrius section. He wanted the role of Demetrius, not Oberon, and he was going to show Coulson that he was the best man for the role.

Coulson himself entered a few minutes later with the same assistant he’d had two days prior. Stark flagged him down and the two held a quick hurried argument, during which they glanced at Steve no less than five times. Steve tried to ignore their attention but it wasn’t easy when he was dying to know what was being said.

Were they discussing his decision to sit in the Demetrius section? Was Stark trying to convince Coulson that he should be dismissed from the auditions?

He felt his heart sink a little. He’d always been quick to judge, to act on his temper, as a result of growing up small and sickly. His ma had often told him that it would eventually backfire on him but if it backfired on him now- if he lost this role because he’d snapped at Stark- he would be beyond upset.

But neither Coulson nor Stark came over to him. Instead, they settled into their chairs- the same ones they’d sat in before- and accepted the stack of folders from the assistant.

“Let’s get started,” Coulson called. The noise in the theater immediately died down. “Welcome back. As with the last round, you’re welcome to leave once your audition is finished. I’ll post the callback list tomorrow morning. We’ll begin with Philostrate.”

And so they began. They worked their way through the auditions for the court and then the lovers before breaking for lunch. Coulson wasn’t so quick to dismiss the actors each time but few of them got more than five or six lines into their monologue and none were allowed to finish. Even Steve only got as far as “Melted as the snow, seems to me now” before Coulson waved for him to get off the stage.

Steve resolutely kept his eyes on the auditioning actors and not on Stark. He took detailed notes on each actor, scribbling down what he thought of their monologues and whether he thought they would be a contender for each role. He did _not_ wonder if Stark was paying as little attention to him or if he kept glancing at Steve.

Lunch break was quick and marked with a noticeable lack of Stark. Steve told himself that he was glad Stark wasn’t bothering him.

And then they were back inside to finish for the afternoon. Steve made sure that he moved to sit with the other people auditioning for Oberon. He didn’t want the role but he would be damned if he lost out on the opportunity to work with Coulson just because he wasn’t willing to be flexible with the roles.

When they reached him, he stood and took his place on the stage. He was half-expecting Coulson to let him finish the monologue the way he had with the _Henry V_ one but he got through six lines and was just beginning to say, “Lull’d in these flowers,” when Coulson held up a hand.

“Thank you,” Coulson said. “That’ll be all.”

Steve awkwardly climbed down and walked back to his seat, feeling a little ashamed. It was true that Coulson hadn’t let anyone finish but he’d done the same thing during the first round of auditions and had listened to Steve’s entire monologue. He felt a little like he’d done something wrong, like he’d let Coulson down or something but other than his brief argument with Stark, he had no idea what he might have done.

The last few actors finished up and Coulson stood. “Thank you all for coming. If you get a callback, don’t worry about bringing another monologue. Just bring a copy of the script.”

Then he was gone, Stark and his assistant with him. He didn’t ask to talk to Steve, didn’t even look at him.

“I guess that’s that,” one of the people next to him muttered. Steve guessed so. He bent down and began to pack up his bag.


End file.
